


And I His God

by bonebo



Category: Naruto
Genre: KakuHida is there if you turn your head and squint really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His caveat is that he's immortal--by one side of the coin, Kakuzu, no matter how much he wants to, cannot kill him.</p><p>But by the other, Hidan, no matter how much he wants to, cannot die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I His God

“Kakuzu.”

The name rings out in a dim, dirty room—past pawprints tracking a dusty floor, grime streaked across cracked windows, another night in the cheapest hotel possible while chasing a bounty—and Hidan's voice is quiet, gaze distant as he stares up at a water-stained ceiling. He listens to the word hang in the chilly November air (because heating is a luxury that they apparently cannot afford on this day, this week, this _month_ ) for a few moments, listens to the scratch of Kakuzu's pencil as he works on the Akatsuki's finances or budget or whatever the fuck, then lets a quiet huff slip past his lips before rolling over. 

Lying on his belly on the lumpy, stale-smelling bed, he peers across the room to where Kakuzu sits; he's big enough that he swamps the desk he works at, shoulders broader than the actual desk is wide, and Hidan would find it somewhat comical if he wasn't already irritated at him.

“Oi. Kakuzu.” He picks at a piece of cotton stuffing sticking out of the bed, nails digging it out—his polish is chipped again, goddammit—before flinging it at Kakuzu's shoulders, scowling as the fluff makes it all of half a foot away from the end of the bed. Figures. “Fucking listen to me, asshole.”

Kakuzu's pencil doesn't stop, still scratching away, and Hidan hates it. Hates him. “What is it, Hidan? I'm busy.” The sound of that damn pencil will drive him insane.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, all the goddamn work you and that stupid-ass pencil do. Fucking miserable existence, I have no idea how you even fucking tolerate it.” His tone is snarky and he doesn't care, because honestly sometimes for all his muscle and might Kakuzu can be such a _whiny little bitch_. “I want you to do something for me.”

He hears Kakuzu snort, watches as he shakes his head minutely. “And what, pray tell, is your request?” His voice is dismissive and Hidan is indignant, at first, but then he remembers that Kakuzu literally cares about next to nothing. It isn't a slight at Hidan, per se—it's just one of many ways that Kakuzu is truly fucked up. So Hidan tries to calm himself as he pauses, thinking of an elegant way to word what he desires.

“I want you to kill me.”

It's close enough, and that, at least, makes the infuriating _scritch scratch_ stop. Hidan grins as he rolls onto his back. 

“Kill me,” he repeats, fingertips tracing lightly over his chest; he can feel his heart beating beneath his skin, forcing blood through him despite how many times it's been stabbed, sliced, cut out, still clinging adamantly to the fact that Hidan will live through it all. Fire, wind, water, blade—he will _live_. “Take my life. End my fucking existence. Aren't you supposed to be good at that kind of thing?”

There's a pause, then Hidan can hear the chair scooting back across the linoleum floor; he counts the heavy footsteps, _one two three four_ and Kakuzu is there, towering over him with a displeased look on his face and a half-scowl on his lips.

(He's unmasked, fucking _finally,_ and Hidan can't help but trace his gaze over the stitches holding his face together with a sort of reverent awe. How it must have _hurt._ )

He holds Kakuzu's gaze while he waits for him to speak, searching his expression almost hungrily—he wants Kakuzu's reply, he wants his irritation and his rage, because he _knows_ that nothing annoys Kakuzu like a job half-done and killing Hidan is a job that he's been trying to finish since day fucking one of their partnership. But the silence stretches on and Hidan can't deny the grin that slowly tugs at his lips, the rush of giddiness in his gut; it's all of two heartbeats later and he's laughing, drawing his knees up to his chest and nearly rolling off the bed in his mirth.

What he's laughing about, he doesn't know. 

But whatever it is, it's fucking hilarious.

Eyes closed, he can feel the bed sink as Kakuzu sits. Hidan waits before uncoiling and glancing up at him, the lingering ghost of a grin still on his face as he pants softly—and Kakuzu still just stares, his expression simply one of distant dislike, mild curiosity.

It's similar to how someone would look while they watched ruins burn, Hidan imagines.

“What the fuck're you just looking at me for?” Hidan grabs the pike from his waistband and snaps it out to full length, then deftly spins it around in his hand to offer the blunt end to Kakuzu. “Do it. Right in the heart, fucking kill me.”

Kakuzu still just looks at him, eyes narrowing a little—and alright, yeah, now it's starting to get annoying. 

“Do it!” Hidan suddenly screeches, shoving the pike at Kakuzu's chest, jerking his hand away only when Kakuzu's own closes around the metal weapon. “I know you fucking want to. So quit being such a fucking pussy and just do it!”

Kakuzu glances down at the pike, thumbing along its tip gently. “Do what?” His flesh parts around the blade at the slightest pressure, a thin trail of crimson streaking down his thumb; Hidan hisses through gritted teeth, anger flaring.

“Fucking—!”

He's cut off by a hand slapping around his throat, and before he can blink Kakuzu is _right there,_ sitting astride his hips and holding the pike right under Hidan's jaw. Hidan slowly stares up at him, his voice caught in his throat; it's a position so solid, with Kakuzu's weight keeping Hidan pinned effortlessly and the ease with which he can shut off Hidan's breath, that it's as if Kakuzu had been there always.

As if Hidan had never known freedom—and in a way, he supposes that he never had.

Kakuzu leans in close, then, close enough that Hidan can feel the brush of his hair along his jaw; he bites his lip, goosebumps prickling along his skin. “This?” Kakuzu growls quietly, giving the tip of the pike a little nudge; Hidan feels it bite into his skin, feels the warmth that dribbles down his throat, feels his heart skip a beat before starting to race at triple speed. “Is this what you wanted, you sick little freak?”

Hidan hesitates, then closes his eyes, swallowing; the pike rakes along as his skin moves, and he finds that his voice is shaky as he replies:

“Please.”

He's rewarded before he can even form another plea. His eyes shoot wide as metal crams through his throat, slicing him open and spilling hot and wet across his chest; his gaze darts to Kakuzu's as his lips move, crimson dribbling thick between them, but before he can get a word out there's thread, moving fast and precise to sew his mouth shut. 

“Don't speak to me.” Kakuzu gets off him, standing like his shoulders are burdened with the weight of the world, and turns away to head back to his desk; the threads retreat as soon as the lip stitching is done, because Kakuzu knows Hidan will not try to move. He has no motivation. “Just lay there and die.”

Hidan tries to gurgle out something in reply, but the noise is lost in the blood and the stitching; instead he closes his eyes, letting his body go limp against the bed, starting to feel cold even as his lifeblood continues to gush from his throat. 

It's a small mercy, this repreive he is given—this break from existing, a sample of a much-craved death. And maybe he is fucked up, beyond what even he knows.

But still, the last thought that crosses Hidan's mind before he's swallowed by black is that Kakuzu is a fucking _saint._


End file.
